The King of Qarth
by Umodin
Summary: He was called Dragonborn and, through trial and tribulation, lived up to that title. Seven years he had been the protector of Skyrim, only to die from a dagger to the belly by the hand of his own wife. He thought he would feast in Sovngarde, but no, his Mistresses had plans for him. Flung into their sandbox, the now named Jaehaerys Blackfyre knows to not spurn his second chance.
1. Istind

Istind Hearthome, age twenty seven, bit back a curse as the dagger he had entrusted to his wife found its way into his belly whilst he was sleeping. He knew that this would end him, he enchanted the damned blade personally with the ability to absorb life, but in such a way that any magic from the school of Restoration wouldn't be of any aid. A true masterpiece he learned during his time in the Dark Brotherhood.

He coughed out a glob of blood and blearily looked towards his attacker. He knew her, lay with her, and fathered her two children; only to be stabbed with the very blade he gave her for her protection. Her dark brown hair hung over her colored face and her clothing consisted of simple black coverings that covered the whole of her body.

Camilla Hearthome, formerly Camilla Valerius.

She showed no emotion on her face, her eyes which were at one point a bright green were now slit yellow; the sign of Vampirism. He knew she'd grown fear him, to hate him, after gaining her affliction, and blamed him for not being there to stop it. As cruel as it was to admit, his duty as Dragonborn forced him to be away, just it had many a time before.

It happened some four years ago. He was patrolling the roads to Windhelm, as was his right being their Jarl. He'd killed Ulfric Stormcloak and the man's lieutenant by shouting the pair off the Throat of the World in a fit of rage. He called for a meeting of the Imperial and Stormcloak leaders for a temporary truce to deal with the greater threat to Nirn. While General Tulius was willing to ceasefire for a time to deal with the dragons, Ulfric was trying to swindle cities and allegiances. In the end, for ending the rebellion in the same way it started, using the Thu'um to kill a Jarl, Istind was named Jarl of Windhelm.

During his patrol, a group of oddly clothed cultists came up to him and asked if he was the false Dragonborn that there had been talk of. He was more bemused than anything, so he answered that he indeed was, and they retaliated by trying to chop off his head. He quickly dispatched the cultists and, after looting their corpses, found a note with orders and the name Miraak.

He went to Solstheim, the place where the orders originated from, with both Dawnbreaker and the Blade of Woe on his person, and begun his search. What happened in the next weeks was like a blur. Miraak, as it turns out, was the very first of the Dragonborn. He was thought to have been killed eons ago, but, like Istind, he became the champion of a Daedric Prince, Hermaeus Mora, and was healed in the Princes realm of Apocrypha. For the rest of his days, he was immortalized in Apocrypha, given access to the forbidden secrets Hermaeus Mora kept, and finally after millennia after millennia passed he wanted to escape his bindings.

Istind knew that this man, predecessor or no, needed to be put down. He did the only thing he could and sought knowledge in the Black Books; the artefacts of Hermaeus Mora. The Prince was willing to part with information, Istind learned of the Thu'ums that Miraak personally created, and, in exchange for access to Miraak, Hermaeus asked him for the secret of the Skaal. It was difficult to make the tribe shaman give up their secrets to the Prince, who they considered their lifelong enemy, but the threat of Miraak was enough to make him talk.

Finally, Istind and Miraak fought. Constantly during the fight, Miraak would call for the dragons he enslaved and kill them in an instant with a curiously four worded Thu'um of _Zii-los Dii Du_ , Spirit-is Mine Devour and regained his health by absorbing their souls. It was lucky that Miraak was, by the standard of Meridia, unnatural and susceptible to the holy fires of Dawnbreaker. They battled until Miraak ran out of dragons, and Istind finally ended him. He absorbed Miraaks soul, learned all of the Thu'ums his fellow Dovahkin knew, and left Apocrypha a changed man.

Upon returning to Windhelm a week and a half later, he was greeted to the sight of his people rejoicing at his return. Apparently a group of Vampires had attacked the city in the dead of night, raping their women and making thralls out of the guards. He rushed to the Palace of Kings, ignoring his people, and made way to his wife and children.

There, standing over the fire in the main hall, was his wife Camilla. He called out for her, trying to get her attention, but upon turning around he was greeted with the sight of tears dripping from a pair of slit yellow eyes.

She told him that the children were safe, they were placed in one of the palaces many hidden cellars, but she and their unborn child was not so lucky. They raped her continuously, they said that it was a message to him from the Volkihar clan, and turned her. The child they didn't know she was pregnant with, a girl, was killed when the curse made its way into her body, and was birthed prematurely by some seven months a stillborn. Even if they cured her vampirism, it was unlikely she would never be able to have children again based on the damage to her womb.

Istind held his wife, comforted her in any way he could regardless of his duty to Meridia, and for that night alone the world knew not of his wrath.

Come morning, however, that would change.

He left his wife's bed in the early morning, before the sun was fully up, put on his gear and left for the road. He made his way near the top of one of the many mountains surrounding Windhelm and let his Thu'um be heard.

 _Paar Thur Nax_.

It took nearly an hour, but the elder dragon appeared. He was curious, naturally so, as to why the Dovahkin would call for him. It was customary for other dragons to only call each other by name when they intended for combat, but the Thu'um of Istind was recognizable even from the far reaches of Nirn where Paarthurnax was, and he knew that Istind would not call him for combat. It was the way Istind spoke, the rage in his voice that made even the common tongue shake like an untrained Thu'um that Paarthurnax understood.

Istind reminded him of the Alduin of old in that moment.

Istind told Paarthurnax about the attack that occurred while he was gone. That his unborn child was now dead and his wife raped and turned into a monster that, according to his patron, he needed to kill. And he wanted revenge. Istind told- no, he _commanded_ Paarthurnax to gather all of the kin that followed his Thu'um and return to this mountain. Paarthurnax normally would never consider taking orders from anybody, especially a youngling, but this was owner of the Thu'um that slew Alduin, and more so it was that of a student, so he agreed.

Three days later, Istind, Paarthurnax, Odahviing and some one hundred dragons met.

Chaos was the only word to describe what occurred.

Paarthurnax knew of the Volkihar clan, he remembered hearing Greybeards of the past speaking of them, and knew the general area they roosted. To the far northwest of Skyrims border, on an island castle that could only be reached by boat. At least for Joor, mortals.

The dragons, with Istind on Odahviings back, flew towards the castle, and found it within the hour. Carnage ensued. The castle was burned by all sides by over one hundred shouts of _Yol Toor Shul_ , turning the cold castle stone into liquid fire. The vampires inside screamed in agony as the castle melted on them. Those that made it outside found themselves to be the meal of the many dragons surrounding the burning wreckage.

Castle Volkihar was no more after that.

He bade Paarthurnax and his kin thanks and Odahviing brought him back to Windhelm. After this event, Istind gained a somewhat fanatical hatred to all vampires aside from Camilla. He spent the next four years of his life hunting each and every vampire coven he heard rumor of. He knew Meridia was pleased with his work. Camilla however was not pleased.

Which was why he had a dagger in his belly. She had, over the years, grown further and further from Istind. His being the champion of Meridia made it a form of sacrilege to lay with her, and he began taking mistresses to his bed instead. Over the course of those three years, his wife went from being the mother of his children to a stranger that shared he shared his home with. It was only natural that she believe he would kill her eventually. If she ran he would hunt her down for certain, and so she chose to end the problem on her own. She would likely take the children to High Hrothgar then disappear, that was what they'd agreed upon should he die before they started training.

One final cough of blood escaped his mouth, and Istind Hearthhome, Dragonborn, Jarl of Windhelm, Champion of the Daedric Princes Nocturnal, Meridia and Azura, passed on from Nirn.

* * *

Nocturnal grinned as she swiped the soul of her champion out of Nirn and into Oblivion. Ever since he became the champion of Meridia and Azura, they'd planned to do this. This would entertain them immensely, that was for certain.

She allowed his spirit to take the form of a babe and had him suckle on her open tit, fully aware that he was cognizant. Her champion was like her child, and what mother didn't allow their child their breast? She remembered clearly when she chose to make him her champion. He was but a simple assassin for the Dark Brotherhood, and took a contract from her last loyal Nightingale Karliah to kill Mercer Frey and return the Skeleton Key. He accepted, and Karliah gave him all of the traitor's habits for a clean kill.

Clean would never be what Nocturnal would call it, but the deviousness of the plan made her shiver in delight. She knew that she wanted this mortal for her own after that.

He stole potions of invisibility from the local apothecary in Riften and used them to seal off the hidden entryways and exits in the manse of Mercer Frey. Istind waited some two weeks, but eventually the traitor returned to his home and Istind struck.

He called for the red and blue dragon, Odahviing she believed he was called, and commanded the wyrm to _burn Riften_ ; starting with the manse.

Oh, it was wondrous. The carnage he wrought. The way he made it seem like it was just a wild dragon by casting an illusion to turn the red scales green. Odahviing killed a quarter of the townsfolk, Jarl included, and she delighted in the screams of pain Mercer Frey gave. She stole his spirit afterword's, he pledged his very being to her eminence after all, and gave him to her Daedric servants to torture and rape for the rest of eternity.

Istind looted the wreckage of the manse, and found the Skeleton Key soon after. He returned it to Karliah, and in that moment Nocturnal came to him. She hadn't been that entertained in centuries, and wanted to reward this mortal properly. She named him her champion, gave him the Daedric horse Shadowmere that she gifted to the Dark Brotherhood eons ago, and minor access to one of her realms of influence. He chose the realm of shadow, and so the magic of Shadowstalk, the ability to remain unseen for a short few minutes once a day, was granted to him.

"Istind, my dearest champion, I welcome you to Evergloam." She announced, her attempt at a warm smile looking more like a sinister smirk. Istind kept his attention on her while the body she crafted for his use fed on her breast. She stroked the back of his head and continued talking. "Yes, apologies, you're busy aren't you? Well then, allow me to speak and you will listen." She flexed her breast, and milk began to seep into her champion's mouth.

"Nirn is the culmination of what you call the Aedra, they gave up part of their very being in order to create it. In some ways, Nirn itself is an Aedra and its sphere of influence is mortality, but that's philosophical talk. It is because Nirn has the essence of the Aedra that we Princes are so attracted to it. Our realms of influence are greatest on Nirn than in any other realm of Oblivion aside our own. It was because of that, that when Nirn was first made a group of us Princes grew curious. We said 'If they could create this wondrous world by giving up parts of their essence, we can surely create something far better without such a price!'"

Istind stopped his suckling, which Nocturnal took to be an action of shock. She patted his scalp back into her breast and continued her tale, "Yes, at one point in time we wanted to be like the Aedra in that regard. But we wondered, 'How do we create our world?' We decided that, instead of putting our very essence into this world, we would put pieces of power, our realms of Oblivion into it. From Mehrunes Dagon came Essos, a land created solely from a cut off portion of the Deadlands. From Molag Bal came the Lands of Always Winter, a land taken from Coldharbor, and the White Walkers, another term for his Soul Shriven. From Sheogorath came the island nation of Valyria and other smaller island nations along with much of the ocean and seas of the Shivering Isles. From Malakath came Dorne, a land taken from the Ashpit. From Hircine came Ashai, the rest of the Seven Kingdoms and many of the lesser beasts from the Hunting Grounds.

"I myself, along with Azura and Meridia, your other patrons, created the cycle of Night and Day, Summer and Winter. Meridia made the sun, I made the moon, and Azura made sure that it would cycle. Clavicus Vile, always the prankster, called himself the Many Faced God and gave his devout the ability to change faces. Hermaeus Mora brought the knowledge of obscure magics into our world. Peryite brought with him a new form of Daedra, bastardized creatures meant to mock Akatosh, and called them dragons, as well as creating a curious little pestilence called Greyscale." She chuckled as Istind choked lightly on her nipple and pulled him up. She put him over her shoulder and forced him to burp. She could _feel_ the shame coming off of him in droves, and savored in it. She cradled him in her arms, turning her silver eyes onto his form.

"The rest of the Daedric Princes didn't instill any power or land, but mindsets to the peoples of our world. Boethiah gave the peoples of this world the natural state of mind to kill. Namira took over religion in Ashai. Sanguine, similar to Boethiah, gave the peoples of this world much looser morals in comparison to Nirn. Vaermina offered a rare few people the ability to see the future in the form of dreams. Mephala gave them politics, and more importantly, corruption.

"Finally we have Jyggalag, the last to add something to this world. He, after separating from Sheogorath in the end of the Third Era, chose to add the destruction of Sheogoraths island nation of Valyria, and instilled the belief in honor."

She smirked, noting how the infant Istinds wide eyed look was ever so entertaining, and returned his mouth to her tit. "We chose not to name our world, though we did name its countries, and it was fine until we realized there was an issue. We didn't have any mortals. We never honestly realized at the time that Nirn was so interesting to us _because_ of its mortals. Well, we decided that in order to fix this without giving up our essence, we'd take them from Nirn.

"Those that followed us willingly and openly, for a time, were taken from Nirn and placed on Westeros with their memories wiped of their old home. The Aedra didn't challenge us, those mortals went against their teaching as had to pay for their actions. We only took men, no mer or beastkin, and made sure to do this as many times as we could. We called the Nords the First Men. The Bretons were the Andals. The Imperials were the Valyrians. And the children of the single Redguard and a Breton became the Dothraki. Hermaeus Mora decided to steal a small group of Dwemer, they forsook the Aedra in pursuit of knowledge so no fuss was made, and renamed them the Children of the Forest. Histories were made and names changed and so on and so forth. Nirn is often called our playground, but Westeros is our sandbox; we made everything there purely to say that we could. You might ask me, 'Mistress, why are you telling me about this?' and I have an answer for you my dearest champion.

"Boredom."

The infant form of Istind blinked at Nocturnal with bulging cheeks filled with her milk. She pulled him off her tit and wiped his mouth with her thumb, her smirk still in place and her silver eyes shining in mirth.

"We haven't really done much with Westeros as of late, and decided to see what would happen if we took as similar role as the Aedra did and just watched from afar. Parts of the world were fine, other parts… Well, the best way to put it is that Sheogorath and Mephala are far too entertained right now. Molag Bal decided to command his White Walkers to begin reforming his armies, so Meridia wanted to combat him. Myself and Azura were growing tired of the world as well, Azura so much so that she allowed the state of Summer and Winter to last long years so she wouldn't have to pay attention. So, we three decided that the most _fun_ way of dealing with our boredom would be to bring our dearest champion unto this world."

Istind had swallowed that of the milk and was trying, and failing, to form words. All that escaped his mouth were spit filled gurgles, and the more he tried the more frustrated he became. Nocturnal couldn't help but laugh at the predicament, finding her champion to be more far entertaining than ever before.

"Yes, we decided that you would entertain us. Oh don't glare, we didn't intend for you to die in such a way, nor so young. Mephala likely did that. Anyways, I will place your spirit into the body of one of the people that will be central to Westeros, and you will do your duty to Meridia and combat the White Walkers.

"Your powers as a Dragonborn will be sealed off, temporarily of course. We wouldn't want you to die once more now would we? No, your power will be sealed off until something significant happens, Azura already decreed when and where it will occur. We do this so that you might understand the peoples of this world more, and you will."

She lifted Istind up so that they were face to face, and placed a lingering kiss on his brow. "When you enter Westeros, make sure you trust your instincts. You are still my champion, and both Shadowmere and the Shadowstalk are yours to use. Meridia will, eventually, reunite you with Dawkbreaker, and Azura will help you along the way, though her star will be useless to you as it always has been." She couldn't help but snicker at that. Azura, her dearest sister, had been very annoyed upon learning her champion had no interest in Enchanting, even when he had an unbreakable soul gem.

She poked the infant form of Istind on the forehead, and smiled as he shrunk and returned to the formless spirit he entered Evergloam as. She turned around, a map forming out of nothing with all of the details of Westeros marked down. She poked the diagram that said Kings Landing, and watched as name after name appeared. She smiled widely when a name appeared, noting that it should be dying from some local disease, and pushed Istinds soul into the written name. Istind was sucked into the name, and its greying words which symbolized that it was dying darkened into a rich black.

Nocturnal smiled once more, looking at the name. "I hope you continue to entertain me for many more years my dear champion." She traced her fingers over the name once more and uttered the new name of her bemusing champion.

"Jaehaerys Blackfyre."

* * *

A/N: Hey there guys, Umodin back with a random update. So, after watching the GoT S6 teaser, I decided to get into reading GoT and ASoIaF fanfictions. I found myself drawn more to the crossover community on those pages than anything, and a few stories made me bust out my Xbox360 and reroll some Skyrim. I had a blast just going back through that game, and decided that in love for both the game and GRRM's series, I'd try for a crossover.

A trend I noticed when it came to crossovers in GoT is that, most of the time, people cannot _explain_ how their character was brought to Westeros. I hope that, upon this explanation, you fully understand how this happened and find it to be understandable. I don't want you to find it believable, that ruins the point of fiction, but finding it understandable is always a good thing.

I decided to mainly skip Istinds like in Skyrim and go straight into the nitty gritty of why he was dead and all that good stuff. Now, something you should be aware of is that he was born under the Thief. He is, in the end, more of a sneak than the hero of legend we encompass when playing Skyrim. He is willing to do terrible things for the good of Nirn as well as his own pocket. Somebody in GoT I'd compare him to would be Varys combined with Bronn personality-wise with the combat skills of a smaller Drogo.

Bit of history when it comes to the character Jaehaerys. Jaehaerys Blackfyre is the firstborn son of Serra Blackfyre, a whore from Lys that later married Illario Mopatis. It's not expanded on if Serra had any children in cannon or if she was truly a Blackfyre, only speculations and such. I chose to have Nocturnal place him inside the form of a dying babe instead of rebirthing him because, well, birth is more of Mara's domain and Nocturnal probably wouldn't bother with anything of that nature. Plus it'd be more entertaining for her if she watched him learn about the world in such a way.

On the mention of Nocturnal and her nature, you have to understand one thing. I picture the Daedric Princes to be brutal, which I showcased with her punishment of Mercer Frey, and interested only in their own entertainment. In the case of when Istind died, Nocturnal was taking a mickey at Istinds pride by turning him into an infant and forcing him to breastfeed. I find her to be one of the more tame Daedric Princes, as are Meridia and Azura to which Istind is their champion.

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	2. Daenerys

_Twenty Two years later_

* * *

Daenerys Targaryen had never been happier than she was at this moment. Her and the remnants of her former husband's khalasar, those who followed her and didn't abandon their Khalisee, had been traveling for days upon days. Women and children and men and horses died, and as disgusted as she was with the act they needed food, so they feasted on the corpses. The khalasar claimed it necessary, as did Ser Jorah Mormont her faithful friend, but the action still sickened her. They had been travelling with no goal in mind, hoping to find civilization, when her riders returned some hours later with the widest grins she'd ever seen on their faces. "A city, Khaleesi!" they cried in the Dothraki tongue. "A city as pale as the moon and as lovely as a maid, an hour's ride, no more."

"Show me" she said.

When the city appeared before her, its walls and towers shimmering white behind a veil of heat, it looked so beautiful that Dany was certain it must be a mirage. "Do you know what this place might be?" she asked Ser Jorah.

The exile knight gave a weary shake of the head. "No, my queen. I have never traveled this far east."

The distant white walls promised rest and safety, a chance to heal and grow strong, and Dany wanted nothing so much as to rush toward them. Instead she turned to her three bloodriders and spoke in their tongue. "Blood of my blood, go ahead of us and learn the name of this city, and what manner of welcome we should expect."

Her riders were not long in returned. They came back with an extra person, a woman she could tell, with a red mask covering the whole of her face aside from a pair of violet eyes. She had dark copper hair and deeply tanned skin. Her dress was made up of silks dyed in red that showed off her slim body, full breasts and wide hips. She rode the largest horse she'd ever seen, with fur as black as Drogon's scales and eyes as red as blood. Jhogo, her most trusted bloodrider, spoke to her, "Blood of my blood," he said, "We have been to the great city Qarth, and returned with a woman who would speak to you."

Noises were made from behind Dany and she turned to see the majority of her khalasar on their knees in front of the woman in red's horse. They muttered in their tongue the word "Ashai'itrin" and she made note to learn why her people revered the horse. She stared at the strange woman. "Here I stand. Look, if that is your pleasure, but first tell me your name and title." she said in High Valyrian.

The masked woman dismounted her horse and snorted in a very unladylike way, speaking the Common Tongue of the Seven Kingdoms, "I am Quaithe of the Shadow, mistress of the King of Qarth and I come seeking dragons."

Ser Jorah spoke hurriedly to Dany, "Qarth has no Kings or Queens Khalisee."

Quaithe nodded, not bothered in the slightest with Ser Jorah's words, "And how did the first King Aegon rule the Seven Kingdoms? The same way the King of Qarth has come to be. He came as a conqueror."

Dany offered a slight glare at Ser Jorah, she understood his caution but her people were starving and she wasn't interested in asking what might be improper questions, and turned her attention back onto Quaithe, "Seek no more," she told her. "You have found your dragons."

Quaithe looked behind Dany, taking interest in the three small cages that were making noises and screeches. She approached them and opened one, and found herself wide eyed when a dragon of green scales came out and landed atop her shoulder. Quaithe slowly rubbed the dragon atop its head and Dany could not tell what she was thinking while her mask was on.

"That one is Rhaegal," said Dany. She wasn't comfortable with her dragons being touched by any but those she trusted, but seeing her child so content being close to this woman made her worry lessen. "The other two would be happy to see you I'm sure, provided you bring their mother and their mother's people inside of Qarth."

Quaithe barked out a laugh, it sounded both boisterous and musical and not ladylike in the slightest. "Yes indeed, Khalisee. Very well, we will make ride to the gates of Qarth and you shall be granted entrance." She placed Rhaegal back inside his pen and mounted her horse once more.

Dany's khalasar quickly packed their belongings and made to follow Quaithe on horseback. A half hours ride brought them to the entrance to Qarth. The milky white walls now looked to be bronze, making her believe that it was just the sun reflecting off of the high walls. There were curious flags mounted on top of the gate, a red dragon shaped in as a diamond on a black background. She'd never seen a coat of arms look like that before, and Ser Jorah said that he knew nothing of the sort and he knew much more than she when it came to highborn families. He made mention that it was possible that it was either an elevated house, or simply one that was not known in the Seven Kingdoms or the Free Cities.

Ser Jorah had asked Quaithe, for she made tell that she was no lady and refused to be called anything but the name she was born with, what differences the King of Qarth made and what type of man he was.

"The King made to remove the pureborn from power. Qarth was at one point governed by a group known as the Thirteen, the greatest of merchants, eldest of pureborn families and the lead warlock from the House of the Undying made up the Thirteen. When my King made way to Qarth with only some fifteen men, he bathed the House of the Undying in fire, having no love for the warlocks, and took their place in the Thirteen. During his very first meeting of the Thirteen, he had his men slaughtered the pureborn, who made up six of the thirteen seats and told the merchant kings that they were no longer kings, for he was their True King, and renamed them trade lords." Quaithe's voice was filled with quiet admiration as she spoke of her king, and Dany found herself more curious than anything. She had long since lost her innocence, and knew that what this man had done was more necessary than it was cruel. But, for such a decisive end to come to a city government that had been around for millennia was worth learning of. _Perhaps I could learn the same strategy when I return to the Seven Kingdoms_ she mused.

"He then elevated the greatest craftsmen and merchants of Qarth to take the vacant seats of the pureborn, and brought prosperity to the people. The positions held by the trade lords are the lords of ships, spices, copper, sculptures, glass, smith, silk, whispers, silver, gold, fish and produce, of which he is on. He has been King for some five years now, and Qarth has never known such prosperity. He is a stern man, often offering his enemies to the pyre and Red Waste, but he truly cares for the populace."

"Glass?" Ser Jorah asked.

Quaithe nodded, "Dragonglass, also known as obsidian. Our king has a deep seated interest in Valyrian culture and wares, he himself is of Valyrian descent, and made trade with Ashai and the Shadowlands from which he hails for as much Dragonglass as he could obtain. He himself is the lord of glass." Ser Jorah nodded in understanding.

Dany found herself somewhat entranced as the masked woman made tale, "I would hope to meet him soon. He sounds an interesting man."

Quaithe nodded, "He will be very interested in meeting you. He himself has no use for dragons aside from comparing them to his readings; he is an avid reader of dragonlore you see. But the Targaryen family has always been a curiosity of his." Dany perked up at that. She knew that her dragons were mere hatchlings, but soon they would be far larger than any other animal. _Mayhaps this King would tell me what he knows of my children_.

Her khalasar was granted entrance through the copper banded gates of Qarth, and Dany found herself enraptured by what she saw of the city. The sounds of gongs went off as the gate opened, beaten by men covered in scaled armor as they went through and passed under a bronze arch fashioned in the likeness of two snakes mating. Buildings colored in the likeness of roses, violets and umber were all around, and small children ran around in gilded sandals and painted faces and nothing more. Dany couldn't help but feel shabby and barbaric as she passed the peoples of Qarth, who wore what seemed to be the finest of silks with gold gilded in their robes and dresses and even their faces.

Quaithe had led the khalasar deep into the city until they made way to a port. Wooden boats were aplenty, she thought there were at the very least two hundred ships docked, and men with skins of white and tan and ebony manned the various cargo's around. Quaithe had walked up to a man with ebony skin, a balded head and a cropped beard and beckoned Dany over.

"This is Qarth's lord of ships, Xaro Xhoan Daxos. Xaro Xhoan Daxos, this is Daenerys Targaryen and her khalasar. Tell me, shiplord, where is our king?" He looked slightly startled at the mention of Dany's family name though he hid it well. His coal black eyes swerving between Quaithe and Dany and Dany's khalasar before slowly answering, his accent thick and throaty.

"Our King is at the forge the last I heard many hours ago, working with the lord of smith Tobin Kor with the treasures he pillaged from the Thirteen." He sounded both annoyed and pleased, and noted Dany's confusion. He smiled brightly, showing off teeth that were covered in a silver grill, "Qarth was never part of the Valyrian Empire, but often did we trade with the freehold centuries ago. Qarth never needed for food or resource since they made trade with Ashai, so instead the ancient Qartheens made for scrolls of knowledge from the freehold and vaults of Valyrian steel to hold their great amounts of gold. Our King made the decree that all Valyrian steel and scrolls were his to use as he saw fit. One of his most trusted men, our lord of smith Tobin Kor, is a native of Qohor, and one of the few known men that can reforge Valyrian steel. They've been working together tirelessly to create as many wonders as they can with the steel they recovered."

Dany was wide eyed at the knowledge, as was Ser Jorah. She knew of the power that Valyrian steel possessed, her brother Viserys had often told her stories of Blackfyre and Dark Sister when she was younger. Ser Jorah had even made mention of his own family blade Longclaw once, and said he used it during the Greyjoy Rebellion. Tales of bastard swords barely as heavy as a simple longsword and steel capable of cutting through rock as if it were a knife to butter came to Dany's mind.

Quaithe nodded, "Then please have some of your men bring Daenerys's khalasar to shelter and give them food." Xaro looked slightly annoyed but nodded his ascent and made to shoo her away, along with Dany and Ser Jorah. Dany hopped off her horse silver and left her with Jhogo while Ser Jorah offered his own horse to Doreah, one of her handmaidens and a former whore from Lys. Ser Jorah grabbed the cart that held Dany's hatchlings and made to follow her and Quaithe. Quaithe dismounted her own horse, but made no move to have the curious breed stabled. It followed Quaithe like a pup looking for a bone.

The pair followed Quaithe through to town once more, finding themselves heading towards a part of town filled with smoke and fires and looked as if every building were made of iron and leathers. Chimneys were scattered around the buildings and shops and the sounds of hammer meeting metal rang all throughout the street. Quaithe had called this part of Qarth the First Forge, and Dany couldn't help but believe the name was apt.

They found themselves inside the smallest of the buildings, only high by a single story with curious wares of iron and steel and silver littering the walls and such. Quaithe told her horse to stay outside the shop, and surprisingly it seemed like the mare understood her words for it followed the order. Quaithe and Dany and Jorah entered the shop and Quaithe walked up to a boy manning the shop, and the boy smiled brightly, a few of his teeth were made of silver, and beckoned the trio to the back of the shop. There was a stairwell heading to the underground, and Ser Jorah made to stay above with the dragons while Dany went down.

The air in the basement smelled of pure smoke, reminding Dany strongly of the pyre she burned Mirri Maz Duur. Upon reaching the bottom, she found herself looking at a short older man with a deep tan, cropped brown hair that was lightly greying, and a large chin and beady blue eyes. He didn't look at her, focused on his hitting a sword to the anvil. Quaithe walked up to the side of the room, Dany saw a mass of leathers and strips decorating what looked to be a tanning bed, and grabbed some of the strips and tossed them at the man at the forge. He, in a fit of shock, swerved around with hammer in hand and made to hit whoever was closest to him. Upon seeing nobody, he looked towards Quaite with a scowl.

"What d'you want woman?" he bit out, his accent heavy and raspy in a way that reminded Dany of Magister Illyrio Mopatis, the cheesemonger that housed her and Viserys for nigh on a year in Pentos.

Quaithe laughed throatily, her violet eyes twinkling slightly from behind her mask. "And a good day to you as well dear Tobin Kor. Me and my companions need find our King, where might he be?"

He grunted, "Kid finished up his work and went to try out his sword with the men. Find him at the Pyre." He returned to his work at the forge, ignoring Quaithe and Dany.

Quaithe and Dany made way back up the stairs, "Tobin Kor is often a bitter man, though he can be quite fun with drink in hand" she said. "When our King made him lord of smith I don't think I've ever heard any man curse as loudly and for as many weeks as he did. He loves his forge and hates politics, and governing his fellow smiths was never his goal when he joined up with our King."

"Why do you only call him your King? I've not yet heard his name come from your mouth." Dany questioned. For such a person to be renowned by his people it was strange to her that she had yet to hear his name.

Quaithe slowed for a moment, turning back to Dany from the stairwell. "Our King's family name makes him hunted in both Essos and the Seven Kingdoms. He rarely uses it, finding his ancestors to be uncouth and going so far as to change his sigil in order to escape their memory. We of Qarth respect his choice, and simply call him King; though my being his mistress means I need watch my tongue more closely. I'm sure if you were talking to one of the smallfolk or even another one of the lords you would learn his name. He simply goes by Jay if you must know."

Dany found the reason for his family name to be hidden curious. She found the name Jay to be simplistic for a King, but she went by Dany in private and couldn't find any fault else she be labelled a hypocrite.

They made way back up the stairs, Ser Jorah and her dragons following after them, and made way to the Pyre. Quaithe had told them about the Pyre and Dany found herself immensely interested. "The Pyre is what used to be known as the House of the Undying. After killing all of the Warlocks, he burned their bodies all around the House and renamed it the Pyre. He had the Qartheen sculptors and builders rework the stones of the Pyre, and made it his castle. Rare though is it that he goes there, he prefers my bed far too much, else we would have gone to the Pyre first."

As they made way through the streets of Qarth towards the Pyre, Dany noted that her dragons were rattling their cages and screeching loudly. She didn't understand why they did this, and tried to calm them with her voice, but found herself being ignored by her children for the first time. She questioned Quaithe why they would act like this, and the woman merely stated that they were beings of magic, and they were approaching the strongest force of magic in all of Qarth.

The Pyre looked intimidating. Stones blackened in soot stood some four stories tall in the form of a coned castled surrounded by a vast garden of blue flowers. Nightshade, Quaithe had called it. Dany was led past the Pyre and to a yard of dirt and stone and burnt grass. There were some fourteen men of various descent seated at stone tables and benches watching a pair of men battle shirtless in front of a hill looking to be made of the sands of the Red Waste.

One of the men fighting was Dothraki by appearance, with a long black beard tied in a braid and the makings of a short braid of black hair rested on his head. He looked to be in his thirties and his body was well sculpted, not near as sculpted as Drogo's Dany made mention, but still defined, and he used an arakh with curious blue ripples making way on the curved steel blade.

The other man was what truly caught Dany's attention, for he was far too similar to her brother Viserys in looks for him to catch it. He had long white-gold hair tied in a Dothraki braid reaching past his shoulder blades and touching the middle of his back. His face was filled with concentration as he battle the Dothraki man, violet eyes dancing in excitement, high and defined cheeks covered in sweat and a vicious grin showing off whitened teeth with silver flashing in them. He looked to be in his twenties, Dany noted. His body was similarly well sculpted to Drogo, and he was near as large as her former husband. He fought against the Dothraki man's rippled arakh with a pair of blades looking to be twin-swords that also had ripples on the steel, though they were colored more like smoke.

Her breath hitched as she watched the Valyrian man fight. He seemed like one of the waterdancers that Magister Illyrio often had fight for her brothers entertainment. The Dothraki man was charging like a battering ram whilst the man she presumed to be Jay, since Dany remembered being told he was of Valyrian descent, had danced around the arakh like the wind. He cackled loudly, his laugh was throaty and made Dany shiver, and made to kick at the Dothraki man.

The fight ended soon enough, Jay sliced at the man's arm and the rest of the fifteen men roared in approval. She heard the Dothraki curse in his native tongue, but the grin on his bearded face told her that he wasn't truly angered. Quaithe cleared her throat loudly, making all the men turn towards her voice in question. Jay himself looked at Quaithe and his eyes brightened, and upon turning to Dany and Ser Jorah lifted an eyebrow to Quaithe in question. He approached the trio, grabbed Quaithes mask and ripped it off. Dany took in the woman's face; she was beautiful with pouty red lips, perfectly trimmed eyebrows and defined cheekbones looking to be in her twenties. Jay embraced her tightly and captured her in a searing kiss, which made his men whistle loudly in appreciation. Dany found the situation awkward, and after looking at Ser Jorah she would say he agreed with her.

Quaithe broke from the kiss, her cheeks lightly pinked but the smile on her lips told Dany that she enjoyed the action. "My love, you have guests."

He rested his forehead against hers and stroked his hand through her copper hair, "And who would they be?"

"Daenerys Targaryen, her khalasar, Ser Jorah Mormont, and three dragon hatchlings."

He broke from their embrace and turned to Daenerys with a risen eyebrow, "And how might I help you littlest dragon?"

Dany found herself irked at his name for her; she was blood of the dragon and was in no way _little_. "I come to ask for shelter, and to use your ships to go to the Seven Kingdoms."

He barked out a laugh, "And what could you possibly do in the Seven Kingdoms? Your dragons are hatchlings, far too young to be of any use."

"The Iron Throne Is mine by right; the loyal lords and common folk will rally behind me."

Jay let out that same made cackle he used when fighting the Dothraki man, and Dany knew he found what she said to be entertaining. "You believe that littlest dragon? Truly? No, I take it you have no idea what's going on with the Seven Kingdoms do you?"

Dany glared at him, but her silence was answer enough. "Robert Baratheon is dead. Eddard Stark murdered. The North rally behind Robb Stark and proclaim him King in the North. Joffrey Baratheon sits the Iron Throne. Stannis Baratheon fights Joffrey's claim. Renly Baratheon along with High Garden proclaimed himself king. Balon Greyjoy retook the crown of the Iron Islands. The War of Five Kings is happening, and no loyal lord or common folk will care about you while their dealing with that chaos."

Dany's eyes were wide and Ser Jorah actually had his mouth open in astonishment.

Jay continued, "I thought about going to the Seven Kingdoms and conquering it, much like my ancestor Aegon did, but decided against it. I have been told by my Goddesses that the cold dead is walking once more, and have no interest in squabbles of petty lords and false kings when I need make weapons to combat what is beyond the North."

Ser Jorah openly scoffed, "You speak of White Walkers. Nothing more than children's stories meant to scare them into behaving."

Jay shrugged, not caring in the slightest about Ser Jorah's opinion. "And if it is truly just a story, then I am still outfitting my men and my traders with the most valuable weapons in the world. So it matters little to me."

Dany finally found her voice, and harshly bit out at the man. "You said you would conquer the Seven Kingdoms just as your ancestor Aegon. You are no Targaryen, there are none of us left, imposter." Ser Jorah made to silence her, Dany herself knew that her words were too harsh to a man that she hoped would shelter her and her khalasar but his words had struck her in such a way that her pride took place on her tongue.

Jay nodded, "You don't know who I truly am do you?"

Dany glared at him. "No, I know your title. That is all."

He nodded, not annoyed in the slightest. "Allow me to educate you then, littlest dragon."

He turned around, walking towards the red hill that he was fighting in front of. He walked around it and a silence filled the area. Dany saw that his men looked on in mirth, as did Quaithe, while she and Ser Jorah were merely confused.

Then the hill began to _move_. What she thought were curious rock formations turned out to be scales. Wings lengthened and a roar that encompassed the whole of Qarth was let out. The beast stood up, Jay on at its side, and Dany finally understood his nickname for her. It was red, with silver wing membranes and spikes adorning its spine. Its horns were curved, its snout like a sword and its teeth looked to be made of pure daggers.

She smelled piss, and turned to see Ser Jorah had soiled his pants. She couldn't blame him, what she thought was a simple hill was in fact a dragon, the very symbol of her house. She understood now why her dragons were so loud, and chose to release them. Rhaegal and Viserion made way towards the dragon screeching in happiness while Drogon found his way to Dany's jerkin, tore through the leather and found his way to her tit and began to suckle milk out of it.

Jay walked up to Dany, his massive red dragon looking at Viserion and Rhaegal with avid interest. "My dragon's name is Odahviing.

And my name is Jaehaerys Blackfyre."

* * *

A/N: I decided to redo this chapter purely because I left myself with very little room to do what i'd like previously. I originally had Jay as a Targaryen that saved Dany from being wed to Khal Drogo, but I realized after posting it that her being married was what made Dany such a powerful character. I felt that it needed to happen, plus without really thinking about it I made him far too boring by my standards, so I made to change it.

Jay is now a Blackfyre, and is ashamed of his ancestors multiple attempts to take over the Seven Kingdoms. I feel that this will give me lots and lots of things I can work with, and I already thought up a backstory for Jay.

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	3. Jaehaerys

As the sun rose in Qarth and morning came, the sounds of trade began to stir throughout the city-turned-kingdom. From the Pyre, the seat of King Jaeherys Blackfyre, the sounds of flesh slapping flesh were heard from behind the door of his quarters in the Pyre. Moans and grunts came from a male and female voice in quiet and loud variants. Jay and Quaithe were rutting like dogs in heat, she having taken her Moon Tea earlier before the morning came made it so she had no fear of pregnancy, and allowed her passion to run wild.

Jay found himself drawn to this woman. He'd never love her in the traditional sense, never take her as a wife, for her religion forbade her from being bound to any other than her god, but he still cared for her and would welcome her into his bed for as long as he could. The red priests and priestesses were strange folk to Jay, he understood their beliefs and heard their sermons, but never did he feel comfortable with such a black and white view of the world. Their belief that all religion, be it the Seven, the Old Gods, the Drowned God, or any of the lesser known Gods of the world. All of them were daemons that needed to be burned from the history of the world and that annoyed Jay. He himself worshipped the Trinity, the religion he named for his patrons Nocturnal, Azura and Meridia. Quaithe was, luckily, quite lax on her faith in the traditional sense and didn't make attempt to burn his altars to them. Though he believed that was due to his having hatched Odahviing, fire made flesh she would call him, that caused her to drop the subject of converting.

He grunted loudly as he pounded into her cunt, his cock wet and his breath shaky, and after some ten minutes more he spent his seed inside her. Quaithe looked out of breath, sweat clinging to her tanned body, but smiled beautifully at Jay and kissed him passionately.

It had been two days since he accepted Daenerys Targaryen and her khalasar into his city. He made the choice that she deserved a chance to speak due to their blood relation, no matter how distant and diluted. The first day was simply so her and her people could rest and feast. The second day was for them to explore Qarth to their leisure, Daenerys had spent her time with her hatchlings at Odahviings roost behind the Pyre. He put the khalasar in one of the lower quality inns while Daenerys and Ser Jorah Mormont were given rooms in the Pyre. He was certain that the pair had heard his and Quaites lovemaking, and hoped to the Trinity that she commented on it. She was just a girl of fourteen, but she was infinitely entertaining to watch bluster about.

He thought back to two days prior, when she first heard his surname. Her eyes widened, her mouth opened and closed but no noise escaped, and the very first thing she did was scoot behind Ser Jorah's body. She was the Khalisee, the wife to the leader of the most brutal tribe in Essos, so for her to have such a reaction to his name was purely comical. It was even funnier when she saw his teeth. He decided long ago that he would always be armed to the teeth, and he turned that into the literal sense when he had his canines replaced with Valyrian steel. He made to let meetings end then, offering her treat for a few days and gave her time to rest before they came to proper talks.

He rolled out of bed, offering his hand to Quaithe who waved him off and fell back into the pillow they largely ignored in their passion. She wanted to sleep more and he wouldn't begrudge her that, it only meant more feed for him. He grabbed his shortsword and made way down the stairs of the Pyre, towards the dining hall he'd had crafted.

The House of the Undying, prior to being turned into the Pyre, was to put it simply a total maze. The Qartheen warlocks had crafted a building with very little on the upper floors, such as the room Jay claimed as his own, but there were caverns upon caverns of hidden lower levels, dungeons, ritual rooms and other things in that likeness. It didn't take much effort for the sculptors and builders of Qarth to help redecorate the place, they'd always been curious of what was inside the curious construct. The warlocks hadn't allowed visitors unless they were hopeful apprentices, and if the apprentice didn't become a warlock they were simply killed to preserve the foul peoples secrets.

Upon entering the dining hall, he smelled the scent of fish and grains encompass the room. He looked in the room with curiosity, Ser Jorah was eating with minor reservation at the flat of the wide table while Daenerys was feeding her dragon, Drogon she called him, milk directly from her tit in the seat next to him. Jay couldn't help but be thankful he was born male. Odahviing had a similar desire for sustenance when he was just hatched, but he was able to eat the fires of Jay's Thu'um, his _Yol_ , instead of milk.

He made way to the head of the table, startling both Ser Jorah and Daenerys lightly, and began to eat fish, rice and bacon while he ordered a servant to bring him some water.

Ser Jorah rose an eyebrow, "No wine?"

Jay snorted, "Wine is all well and good, but I need some water after what Quaithe did to me this morn." He waggled his eyebrows at Daenerys for good measure, in case she didn't understand his statement wholly.

Ser Jorah growled lowly and Daenerys narrowed her eyes with pinked cheeks. Drogon made a screech from her breast and flew over to Jay, taking place on the table and eating bacon off of his plate. He chuckled and simply patted Drogon on the babes scalp, making the hatchling preen while Daenerys quickly covered her tit.

"I still don't understand why he takes to you so well. None of my khalasar, nor Ser Jorah, have had such an effect on my dragons as you have had." Daenerys said. Her eyebrows were knit together in confusion, and Jay rolled his shoulders.

"Aye, and I'd be happy to tell you so long as we're alone and you swear on the blood of your ancestors, the memory of Khal Drogo, and the lives of your dragon's not to tell a sole aside from your future children." She looked stricken by the set of terms Jay made, and Ser Jorah narrowed his eyes.

"You will not speak to the Khalisee alone, host or no." Ser Jorah said.

Jay shrugged in a lackadaisical way, "And so she will forever remain clueless. But, let us speak openly. Daenerys, I've given you two days for you and your khalasar to rest and feast, now ask your questions and I will ask mine in turn, and we will see if I let you remain in Qarth"

Daenerys's eyes widened from her narrow slits and she sat forward. "I have much to ask, but I suppose if you would be willing, could you tell me how you came to Qarth and how you gained Odahviing?"

Jay stilled for a moment before nodding, "Yes, that's nothing difficult. Let's see… I suppose we should start with a bit of backstory, yes? Hm… Well, my mother's name was Serra, a child of Maelys the Monstrous and was sold to a pleasure house in Lys in exchange for a few ships. I believe Maelys had the intention of taking the Iron Throne and then returning for her, but it matters little. Mother said that it was the happiest day of her early life when she escaped him, regardless of being turned to the whores."

He stopped for a moment, taking bites from his meal and drinking from his flask of water before continuing. "I was born the same way any other child in a whorehouse is, my mother forgot her Moon Tea and a man knocked her up. She said he had some Valyrian blood, and was happy I inherited his eyes since hers were a simple brown while inheriting her hair since his was apparently a boring black; it made me look like a Blackfyre of old or so I was told. She always told me that I looked like her ancestors, and told me much of House Blackfyre; both the bad and… well, the worse. She made certain that I was aware of our bad reputation across the Narrow Sea, so that I wouldn't follow our ancestors to the grave. Anyways, I lived with her until I was five when a man named Illyrio Mopatis came to her bed and asked for her hand soon after. She accepted, but Illyrio had no interest in having me around, and she cared more for comfort than I. I don't blame her, nor did I find her new husband cruel, he gave me coin to get out of Lys and had his men bring me to Qohor where he called in a debt to Tobin Kor and had him take me as an apprentice."

Daenerys cut in, "You knew Magister Illyrio? He housed me and my brother in Pentos for nearly a year." Her tone wasn't accusatory, merely a simple a question and statement that she had let roll off her tongue without much thought. She blushed lightly and pursed her lips in order to keep silent.

Jay rose an eyebrow, "Me and Illyiro were not close in the slightest. I used him as a way to keep in contact with my mother and he used my existence to keep her happy. I know they had a child together, though I don't know anything about the babe, but I do know mother died in the birthing. I haven't spoken to him nor heard from him since he informed me she passed. Still, I am thankful to the man for allowing me to meet Tobin Kor and getting me and mother out of Lys."

Daenerys nodded, and beckoned Jay to continue.

"Anyways, I stayed with Toin Kor until I was nine. He was a fair man, you've met him so you know he has a tongue, and he taught me much about the world. One day, he gave me leave from the smithy and I was allowed to spend some coin I earned. I had about ten gold dragons I believe, but that doesn't matter. I was running around with my fellow children, when I came upon a peculiar merchant peddler from Ashai. I asked to look at his things, and he let him look, when I came upon a curious looking rock. It was the size of my head, covered in these curious scale patterns and was red and white all around." Jay took in Daenerys's wide eyes at the description.

"Did I know it was a dragon's egg at the time? No, I thought it was a gem or an ore of some kind that I could bring back to my master and we might make something out of it. I asked the merchant how much it was, and he told me it wasn't for sale. Now, one thing to know about me, littlest dragon, is that I am a stubborn man, and when I was a child I was far worse and much more petulant. I waited for night to fall, and snuck out of Tobin Kor's forge and found the peddlers cart. I stole the egg, but there was something I never had witnessed, nor did I ever expect to occur. The merchant I stole from was a worshipper of the Red God, R'hllor. He was awake in the after ours, looking into the flames and when he saw me he caught me just as quickly. He brought me to the Red Temple in Qohor, and my punishment for theft was death by fire."

Daenerys had her mouth agape and Ser Jorah listened and nodded along. He seemed to understand that the punishment for theft in the Free Cities were far more steep than other places, especially when attempting such an action against a member of one of the major religions.

Jay continued on. "I was brought to a pyre, another man much older than I was there already, and was bound to the same pole he was. The man I stole from place the egg down at my feet. He told me _'You went through the trouble for it, burn with it.'_ Know that he wasn't doing me a kindness, dragon's eggs are immune to fire and dragons are fire made flesh. It's not an unheard of practice for red priests to burn astone dragon's eggs with their sacrifices in hopes of hatching them, it _has_ happened once and even then the man was of Valyrian decent and it was near five centuries ago."

"And that's how we met." Came Quaithes feminine voice from behind the pair of Westerosi, startling them. They turned to see her still in her bedrobe, her skin was shining in sweat and her mask was not on, showing off her angular face. "Yes, I remember well. I was fourteen, a priestess of the Red Temple, and this was my first sacrifice in the name of my Lord. I was the one who said the words, lit the brazier, and watched them burn. Only my King here didn't burn. No, the first man, a nameless murderer mind you, had screamed his throat hoarse. But Jay, he didn't make a sound. At first I thought he was a simple mute, he didn't make any noise when I was rope tied to the pyre either. But when I heard a small screech coming from his feet…"

Jay cackled, his Valyrian steel plated canines shining in the light. "I'd never seen you Red's look so wide eyed before." his eyes were dancing in mirth and Quaithe matched his look with an amused smirk.

"Yes." Quaithe said. "We were quite confounded. When the fires died down, we saw a naked man and a dragon clutching his chest trying to drink milk. The head priest had tried to make Jay hand over the dragon, but even as a hatchling Odahviing could instinctively breathe fire, and the priest died in the same way Jay was meant to. It was decided soon after that he would be brought to the Shadowlands, and I would be his guide since I hailed from there and I professed his miraculous burning."

Jay nodded, "Aye, I asked them to let me tell my master I'd be leaving personally. I had no issue with this decision, I'd always wanted to travel anyways and now I had the means to travel the world in a matter of days. Once Odahviing had grown of course. They gave Quaithe a little trinket, a free pass to go to the Shadowlands of sorts, and sent us off. Curious though that they all died that same night."

Quaithe snorted, "Curious indeed my love." Her tone told both Ser Jorah and Daenerys that she wasn't saddened in the slightest with that loss.

Of course, he didn't mention to anybody that when he was being burnt his dragon's soul had unlocked. The moment he and Quaithe left the area he let her hold Odahviing for a moment and let loose his Thu'um for the first time in the nine years.

 _Tiid Klo Ul_ , Time Sand Eternity.

All things around him had slowed to a near halt; waters that fell with a slight moonshower were stuck midfall. He went back into the room, and saw the red priests were in midrun. He stole one of their daggers and slit every one of their throats. Then for good measure, he killed everybody in the area, anybody he thought might had been there for when Odahviing hatched. He knew from his readings of Valyrian steel and culture when he was with Tobin Kor that dragons were priceless, and Jay didn't trust anybody with that information.

Jay pulled out the shortsword he always carried and laid it out on the table, the Valyrian steel of the blade showing off smoky ripples. "Tobin Kor was surprised, naturally since nobody had seen a dragon in a century and a half, but he took it far better than most. He gave me this sword and told me this, _'Kid, you're better than my own damn son at the smith. I'll give you this if, when your bigger and I'm retired, you build me a forge heated in that beasts fires'_. He was so damned _devoted_ to his work that he willingly gave up his family heirloom just for the _chance_ at working with a new element." He sheathed the blade and told a servant to fetch him some wine.

"We left soon after, the trinket they gave Quaithe was much like an Iron coin from Braavos, it was worth one free favor from any Ashai'I and there was a ship in port."

When he fell asleep that night, remembered well receiving his first contact with Nocturnal since he was brought to Essos. She told him that she was happy that he stuck to her craft, making note of his decision to assassinate all of the red priests. She had blocked view of what was called the Red Comet from the world, stating that it would inform all of the magic practitioners that a dragon had returned, should they know what the sign meant.

"I spent the nine years there, learning from the curious shadowbinders, rare few dragonlore scrolls, and the various men that taught me how to fight. Eventually, when Odahviing was large enough and bound to me, I left."

"And you left me." Quaithe pouted falsely.

"I lent you Shadowmere, you know the Dothraki would sell the whole of Vaes Dothrak for one of his colts." Quaithe nodded in agreement.

"Why _do_ my khalasar kneel to your horse?" Daenerys questioned.

"Ah… Well, to put it simply, their whole religion centers around something called the Great Stallion. Shadowmere is what they call an Ashai'itrin, a horse believed to be born in the light of dragonfire and absorbed their shadows."

"And is it?"

"Hm? Oh, yeah, Shadowmere was birthed when Odahviing was trying to burn Ghost Grass." Nocturnal had given Shadowmere to him in that form, instead of just allowing the horse to appear as it did before. It was interesting to raise his trusted companion from birth, and it gave him a new respect for the mare.

Daenerys hummed lightly, a glint in her eye, and bade for Jay to continue.

"Well, I spent some time just traveling, you know? People haven't really documented what is inside the Dothraki Sea aside from Vaes Dothrak, and I knew that the Dothraki didn't have any written language, so I found no fault in riding Odahviing. It was when I'd spent nearly a year there that I met my men. A low level Khal with a khalasar of only eighty men, women and no children had tried to kill Odahviing by shooting arrows at him. They didn't touch him, not by a long shot, but it still spurred Odahviing into burning them. Only twenty survived, fourteen men and six women, and they all swore to me when Odahviing landed to eat the dead. Some didn't like me, some still don't, but I've been good to them and the Dothraki are good to their words and oaths."

A servant came in and presented a skin of wine to Jay, who took it and offered his thanks. He uncorked it and drank loudly. A pleased smile appeared on his face as he stopped drinking.

"They went to Qarth on horseback while I flew back to the Shadowlands. Quaite and I met up, made up for lost time, and I took back Shadowmere for a time. I met my men halfway and we went into Qarth from there. The Thirteen tried to give us a hard time, tried to keep us out similar to you, but I told them I had an appointment with the House of the Undying." He grinned, opening his hand and watching as Daenerys and Ser Jorah both gasped in awe and fire formed in his palm. His magic back in Skyrim was limited, he focused mainly on the schools of Destruction, Restoration and Illusion with very limited knowledge of the other schools, and he was quite happy when he learned he could still use his magic.

"The warlocks were quick to let me and my men in Qarth and while my men simply went to an inn and pleasure houses I followed the warlocks inside the House of the Undying. They tried to chain me down, steal my magic and such. Well... They angered me, and in my anger the House of the Undying became the Pyre." He grinned, his Valyrian steel canines making him look far more feral than his defined facial features would allow.

"I wore the clothes of the warlocks and attended a meeting of the Thirteen the next day. They were bickering, the pureborn about their slaves and the merchant kings about their wealth. I needed to make a bold statement and wasn't a fan of slaves in any case, so I killed the pureborn. I declared myself King of Qarth in that moment, and when the rest of the pureborn tried to fight it, well…

Odahviing had a fully belly that day."

Daenerys allowed a moment of silence pass in order to absorb what she was told. Ser Jorah did the same, though he was more trying to put his mind to what he had just heard. Jay didn't mind, it was an unbelievable tale to be sure.

"Now that I've answered your question, you will answer mine. How did you come to be Khalisee of your khalasar and how did you hatch your dragons?"

Daenerys composed herself briefly and spoke softly, strong memories still apparent. She spoke of how her brother had sold her to Khal Drogo in exchange for an army. How Illyrio Mopatis gave her her dragon's eggs as a bridal gift. How she came to accept and even briefly love Khal Drogo. How her brother was killed for threatening the life of her unborn son. How Mirri Maz Duur spat on her good will and took the life of her husband and that of her own son. How she had her revenge by burning her alive, along with the body of her husband and the three dragon's eggs. How she entered the burning pyre and wasn't burned, just as Jay himself wasn't burned. How when the sun rose the next day she rose with it with three dragons.

Jay found himself enraptured by her tale, just as she was to his own. They were similar, in a sense. They were both not willing to allow the world, and the peoples of the world, to dictate what they do anymore. Her, when her brother, husband and son died. Him, when he was murdered by his own wife back when he was Istind Hearthome due to his duty as the Dragonborn. No more would they be tied down.

Jay found himself respecting her. And with that respect, so too came his desire to grant her a boon.

"Alright, here's what's going to happen. You, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen are granted the hospitality of Qarth. Should you choose, I will permit you to stay in Qarth for as long as it takes for your dragons to reach maturity. While you are in Qarth, you will be working however. If you intend to take the Iron Throne, I will not allow you to sully the name of Targaryen, mine own ancestors just as they are yours, by not knowing the art of war. You will train with a blade in hand until the sword is but an extension of your will, and you will take up a craft to teach you the discipline required of a proper Queen. This is my command, as is my right as King of Qarth."

Daenerys's eyes were wide, and after only a moments pause a smile found its way across her face.

* * *

A/N: Umodin back with another quick update. Y'know, what with the teaser for GoT S6 i've been getting back into the show and reading more and more fanfictions as well as trying to reread some of the books and all of those things just snowballed into me writing more.

I put some more detail into Quaite, and gave the basics of Jay's backstory. As I write more I'll be going into detail on certain events as well as giving some more information on his life with Serra and his life in the Shadowlands.

The speech at the end is just what I would called his "Kingly Voice." He's basically saying "Hey, you can stay here for a few years but if yer gunna do that you gotta actually do something while you chill out at my place."

So. Yeah.

If you liked this please Favorite/Follow and don't forget to Review.


	4. Rewrite

**Hey there guys, I have a bit of news.**

 **First, King of Qarth is getting a rewrite. It wasn't going anywhere, the dialogue was most definitely not fit for either the Elder Scrolls or for Game of Thrones, and I felt pretty bad. Plus, with the new trailer for Season 7 of GoT, i'm all hyped and feel the need to update my stuff.**

 **So! With that being said, I've already posted the new story. It's called A Voice in the North. If you are interested, go ahead and check it out! If not, well, I understand. It's been a long time, and the interest this story has gained has likely died down. I'm not insulted, and I just thank you all for paying this easily distracted author whatever attention he can get.**

 **Thank you all for reading this, and I hope to hear from you in the review box for my this new rendition of Istinds story!**


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